snow, piled up to the clouds, it is impossible even to look without being chilled. Around the city rises an amphitheatre of huge hills, on whose lofty summits no sign of vegetation appears. In these elevated situations the clouds collect, and driving before them sleet and rain, wither every plant they meet in their progress over the vallies. The Bora is the rudest of all the Alpine blasts, that infest the Adriatick. Collecting in its passage over regions of snow their icy particles, it sweeps down upon Trieste with the fury of a levanter. It does not blow uniformly and steadily, but in puffs, which shake to their foundations the most solid edifices. A wind of this description would be at tended with serious consequences to the shipping and harbour, if it were accompanied with a corresponding swell and agitation of the sea; but as it seldom reaches to a great distance from the land, its effect upon the Adriatick is inconsiderable. Ships are, however, in danger of being driven by it from their stations, and carried to sea with inconceivable velocity." To prevent such accidents, the late French government caused a number of vast piers to be sunk in the harbour, for the convenience of mooring vessels, which without this security, would scarce be able to resist the violence of the Bora.

Sometimes too, the Siroc, collecting all its fury, and darkening the whole southern hemisphere, rolls mountain-billows into the harbour of Trieste. These storms, although they are of shorter duration than the Bora, are attended with far more danger, and present a scene which when its terrours are aggravated by midnight, rivals in awfulness and sublimity the descriptions of poetick fancy. The bursting of the waves into the very streets of the city-the inundation of its moles and quays, sweeping into the sea the stores and merchandise with which they are generally laden-the shrill sound of the wind among the rigging of the vesselsthe cries of the mariners-ships driven from their anchorage and stranded on the beach, or dashed violently one against another, are some of the principal incidents of the spectacle, which the harbour of Trieste presents, when assailed by the fury of the south wind.

But in summer, when the Adriatick is re

signed to the dominion of the zephyrs, its tran

quil surface throws an air of softness and repose over the landscapes on its shores, which then become the resort of gaiety and pleasure. The promenade called St. Andrea, made by the French government, extends from the city along the edge of a breezy precipice. Here parties assemble to enjoy the beauty of the prosGreeks pect and the freshness from the water. and Albanians are seen carelessly lying on the very brink of the precipice, or reclining on beds of flowers watching some arrival from their native country, or indulging the reveries of fancy in contemplating the blue expanse before them, spotted with fishing boats, and ruffled only by the gentlest winds.

All vessels arriving at the port of Trieste, are subject to its quarantine laws. These laws, which are rigorously enforced against all vessels from the Levant, are sometimes relaxed in favour of Americans and Europeans; so that while some are doomed to a probation of forty days, our term of confinement did not exceed seven. But the strong desire of liberty every one feels, who has been long confined to the deck of a vessel, made it appear to us much longer. The strange appearance too of our fellow-pri

soners, Greeks, Jews, Turks, and Armenians. To me, who love to contemplate human nature, as it is variously fashioned by custom and political institutions, the national manners and costumes of these people, afforded matter for amusing remark.

I was regularly awakened every morning by the matin song of a Greek, who lodged opposite to my apartment, and who chaunted in a voice disagreeably nasal and monotonous, the popular airs and ballads of his native country. I was incensed to hear the language of Sappho and Anacreon so disgraced, and listened with impatience to the perversion of those harmonious sounds, which

-warbled to the string,

Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek,
And made hell grant what love did seek.

But he was the gayest inhabitant of a place, where every countenance was shaded by the gloom of captivity, and seemed to languish with that "sickness of the heart which arises from hope deferred." If the demon of ennui haunts the captive, within the bowers of pleasure, well may he find victims within the walls

of a gloomy Lazaretto. To behold from a state of confinement the world at a distance, and be debarred the privilege of entering its cheerful and busy scenes, is a cruel species of tantalism, where desire continually mocked by a vain shadow of enjoyment, languishes in view of its object.

My sensations, after passing the gate of the Lazaretto, superadded a charm to every thing interesting I saw ; and the most indifferent objects I encountered appeared to possess the grace of novelty. The multitude of new faces a traveller sees, when he first arrives among a strange people, with whom he has no relation, except that of a common nature, are apt to depress him. A populous city is a dreary solitude to him who finds in it no one to share his pleasures and solicitudes. But when the heart is gratified and happy, the kindred features of humanity, in every human being about us, spontaneously unveil themselves. There is in all countries a language spoken, "to which every heart is an echo ;" and to ob. serve in different nations the workings of the same passions and affections, manifesting themselves from behind the disguises and artificial modifications of society, seldom fails to